


I Get Overwhelmed

by Sybildiscontent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Bi-Curious Dean Winchester, Description of f/m, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Human Castiel (Supernatural), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), POV Charlie, POV Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybildiscontent/pseuds/Sybildiscontent
Summary: So the girl Charlie was trying to woo was a stage manager at an all-male burlesque review, so what? Dean was a good friend, he didn’t mind at all going to support his bestie in her quest to get laid. Heck, he even managed to snag a last-minute date himself. Who cared if the show was uncharted territory for Dean? He was fine, no problem here. He wasn’t nervous at all. Nope. He was here to support his friend and to keep his date happy enough to agree to go home with him. He had his plan solidified before he even parked his car.And then a dancer that went by the name of “Angel” came out on stage in skin tight black pleather shorts emphasizing his perfect, thick thighs, tattoos across a perfectly toned stomach, upper arms that made Dean’s look like he’d never worked out a day in his life and... oh. Oh lord. Are those...wings???Whelp. There went Dean’s plans.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Other(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	1. Nothing to see here

**Author's Note:**

> WIP based on a prompt posted in a Destiel FB group.

“You want me to go to what?”

“An all-male burlesque show! You know, burlesque? Dancing, stripping, pasties, athletic prowess, awesome costumes… all things I happen to know you like, Dean.”

“I mean, I like a good show as much as the next guy, but ‘cmon Charles. Isn’t it… I don’t know, kinda…” Dean let the sentence die in his mouth. The silence that met him on the other end of the line was telling. He didn’t mean to be an asshole, really he didn’t. But he had a reputation to protect here for crying out loud! Look, he had nothing against the LGBTQIA community. He never had. Being gay was awesome and yay you and he happily supports anyone in any of their preferred pronouns and relationships- it didn’t matter to Dean. But like, HE wasn’t gay. Dean prided himself on being the all-American typical male. There were few things he loved more than a cold brew, a juicy burger and a pretty girl. I mean, it was true that he had a...well, his brother calls it a “man-crush” on Dr. Sexy, but he was just a talented actor, alright? And there *was* his slight fascination with anything Harrison Ford was in (he may or may not have a well-worn dvd copy of Sabrina squirreled away under his bed where no one knew it existed.) And fine, there was *also* his thing with Swayze, but Swazye always gets a pass, right? But going to an all-male burlesque show...he just didn’t want folks to get the wrong idea, alright? 

“Dean.” Oof. That tone in his best friend’s voice brokered NO room for argument. Dean knew that even though he hadn’t finished his sentence, Charlie had heard the implied “isn’t it kinda gay?” Loud and crystal clear. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and huffed in resignation. He hated coming across as an asshole. Even if that’s sometimes exactly what he was. 

“Look Charlie, I’m sorry. I don’t mean any disrespect, okay? You know I don’t have anything against anyone. It’s just, it’s a Wednesday and I have stuff to do… But I’m flattered you need me to go with you…”

At that Charlie cut him off with a barked laugh.

“Are you kidding? I don’t NEED you to come anywhere, Dean. I can and will go on my own. I just happen to have it on good authority that you’ve been moping around your apartment since Sam went back to Stanford. AND!” Charlie plowed on, steamrolling right over Deans weak attempt at a protest. “ I’m betting you haven’t so much as changed your socks since he left. It’s not healthy and...” Charlie paused once more, drawing in a dramatic breath before continuing. “I cannot let my faithful handmaiden waste away to nothing wallowing in his own filth and sorrow! Not in MY kingdom! Now, are you going to come with me to help support my fair Princess? Or will you disappoint your Queen and risk your place in my court?” 

Dean rolled his eyes at the stern tone eking in under her obvious attempt to lighten the mood. Thing was, Charlie was spot on. He hadn’t showered, done laundry, ate food that wasn’t take away or even so much as changed out of the sweatpants and ratty Pink Floyd t-shirt he had been wearing since Friday morning when Sammy rode off with Jess to fly back to California. He was caught red-handed, and he knew once Charlie had an idea in her head she would pester him until he went along with her anyway. Might as well save her some of the effort, since they both knew how this was going to end.

“Fine” he sighed. 

“What was that, Handmaiden???” Charlie’s sharp tone rung down the phone line.

Dean rolled his eyes, a grin barely touching his features. 

“Sorry. I meant, Yes your Majesty. I would be honored to accompany you to the show.”

“Yay!” The gleeful tone was back immediately in Charlie’s voice, as it always was once she had gotten her way. The thing is, Dean really did want to support his bestie, and she was eager to see this particular show. It seems the girl she had recently finally gotten the nerve to talk to at the coffee shop had casually mentioned she was a stage manager for this new show they were putting on. Apparently it was a big deal, and Charlie has always been a sucker for dark brown eyes, a gorgeous smile, and a whip-smart personality, all of which this “Dorothy” person apparently had in droves. 

“So,” Dean sighed. “When should I pick you up?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie bounced out the door to her apartment and down the few cement steps on her way to the big, black Impala sitting idle along the curb. She was about two bounces away from the passenger side door when she drew up short, suddenly coming to a stop and staring in confusion at the interior of the car. There was someone in her seat. Well, there was the back of someone in her seat, anyway. Dean hadn’t said anything about bringing along a date to the show, but based on the fact that neither of them had separated from sucking face long enough to notice her arrival, she could guess that Dean had freaked out and brought along whatever flavor of the month….ah, who was she kidding, week, that he had lined up. She rolled her eyes (not like they were paying attention to be offended anyway) and sidled up alongside the door. She watched the couple for a few more seconds (she would have put good money on Dean being able to tell her how many cavities the blonde in the front seat had) before she rapped sharply on the hood of the car. A grin plastered over her face as she watched them jump apart, looking for all intents and purposes like they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Which, thankfully, she had gotten here prior to any roaming hands action. 

Dean jumped out of the driver side door with a sheepish grin on his face, wiping his hand across his mouth and straightening the green Henley he was wearing as if to hide any evidence of what had been going on. Charlie raised her eyebrow at him, a slight smirk adorning her features. “Uh, hey there your Highness.” 

“Smooth, but I’m fairly certain we’re long past pretending I didn’t see anything.” Charlie admonished. Nothing like making her bestie sweat a little bit. Speaking of making him sweat… “Making your Queen sit in the back of the royal carriage, I see? She said in the most disapproving tone she could muster which, admittedly, wasn’t very disapproving, narrowing her eyes at him.

Dean looked appropriately abashed as he crossed around to the rear passenger side door. 

“I know I didn’t say anything, but do you remember Brittney? She and I went out last Spring for a few dates?” Dean paused, an expectant look on his face. Truth be told, Charlie did NOT remember Brittney, but it didn’t really matter. Dean wasn’t going to care nor quiz her on it so there was no harm in the lie. She nodded and Dean went on. “Well, I ran into her again while I was gassing up and she didn’t have plans for tonight so I just… I didn’t think you’d mind?” Dean looked so hopeful, Charlie couldn’t even bring herself to tease him. She smiled.

“Nah. And *since* I am such a gracious Queen, I will even allow you to purchase my seat for me this evening.” She raised her eyebrow in a challenging manner, daring him to say anything to the contrary.

“No, uh, of course! Absolutely.” He lowered his voice, “And Charlie, uh.. Thank you for… you know. Not making a big deal over this. I appreciate it. And, uh, I promise I won’t leave you out. No third wheel or making you uncomfortable, okay?” 

Charlie grinned at him and motioned towards the door handle. “Oh Handmaiden, don’t you worry. I trust you will be on your BEST behavior! Now- get the door for your Queen and let’s get this show on the road!” 

~~~~~~~~

The car ride was surprisingly comfortable, awkward start to the evening non-withstanding. It turned out Brittney was a bit of a gamer nerd, and she and Charlie spent the car ride chatting happily about their WoW characters and trading battle stories. 

Soon enough they arrived at the theater, if one could really call it that. It was more like an abandoned warehouse, according to the look of the exterior of the building. Dean managed to find a parking spot towards the back of the surprisingly cramped parking lot and eased Baby to a stop. He truly was on his best behavior, going around and opening not only Brittney’s, but Charlie’s door as well. Once inside the building they found themselves in a small but surprisingly cozy waiting area, a ticket booth/concessions stand set up along the far wall, and a curtained off area separating what Dean assumed was the stage from the space they were in. Dean left the ladies still happily yammering away and went to purchase tickets and, what the hell, a beer for himself and Charlie and a cider for Brittney. When he returned, hands full of tickets and booze, he stood awkwardly just off to the side, trying not to be in anyone’s way. Glancing around he was surprised at the number of people gathered in the small waiting area. Dean had never even heard of the space before today, and it was a bit startling to see how many people were crammed into the room. He hoped the doors or curtains or whatever would open soon.

He was trying to decide if he should try to grab another beer while he still could when he felt an arm snake across his lower back, hand gliding down until it rested on the firm globe of his ass, fingers spread and digging in. He jumped slightly, and glanced to the side, expecting Brittney to be there smiling up at him with her white-blonde hair and hazel eyes. He was met with a grinning face, alright, but it wasn’t Brittney. Golden eyes glittered beneath a mop of light brown hair, barely masking the intense curiosity and glee etched across the face of the man standing with his hand cupping Deans ass. 

“Gabriel?!” Dean bit out in shock. What was his little brothers best friend doing at a gay burlesque show in the middle of the week???

“Dean-o! Fancy seeing you here, bub! To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

To Dean's horror Gabe gave his ass another little squeeze before letting his hand drop back down to the large sugar-laden soda he was cradling. 

“Uh,” Dean replied intelligently, glancing around to find himself alone in the crowd, finally spotting Charlie and Brittney over by the curtain. Charlie was blushing a furious red and speaking to a dark-haired beauty, presumably Dorothy, and Brittney was watching on with a bemused smile. So much for worrying about Charlie feeling like a third wheel. Dean sighed and turned back to Gabe’s expectant face. 

“I’m here with Charlie and a date. Charlie knows someone...er, wants to know someone...no, is hoping to get to know someone… look man, I don’t know. Charlie’s friend or whatever is running backstage and she asked me to come along. And I ran in to Brittney at the Gas N Sip and she didn’t have plans so....And well, here I am,” Dean threw the arm not holding his beer out with a flourish, promptly smacking a heavier set gentleman in the back. “Whoops, sorry!” He apologized with a fierce blush burning his face. He definitely needed another beer, if he was going to make it through this evening. He cleared his throat, turning back to excuse himself to the bar only to find Gabriel’s gaze fixated on Charlie, Dorothy and Brittney. He gave a low whistle of approval. “Now THAT would be one hell of an evening…” Gabe muttered, and Dean found himself chuckling. As annoying as Gabe was, he had to admit it was still miles better than standing here drinking alone. So Dean bit the bullet and opened his mouth. “What brings you here?”

Gabes whisky-colored eyes focused back on Dean with a startling intensity. He seemed to be evaluating something in his head, his eyes quickly darting over Dean’s face and chest as he scrutinized him. Whatever was going on in his floppy-haired head seemed to work out in Dean’s favor, however, because one second later Gabe’s familiar grin stretched across his face. He waggled his eyebrows and leaned in towards Dean, who found himself annoyingly and unconsciously mirroring the movement. 

“Well…*I* happen to know some of the talent being showcased in tonight’s lineup. In fact,” he paused, probably for dramatic effect and damnit, it was working, Dean found himself leaning every so slightly more towards Gabe as he dropped his voice.”I happen to know some of the talent...shall we say… intimately. VERY intimately. And let me tell you, Dean-o...they are some extremely TALENTED talents, if you catch my meaning. VERY talented. Very...bendy…” Gabes eyebrows danced so much at that last statement Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if they had jumped off his forehead. 

“Well, uh… good for you, I guess.” Dean said, straightening back up and downing the rest of his beer. He was lowering the can when a thought suddenly struck him. “Uh, Gabe?”

Gabe swallowed another giant pull from his soda. “Yeah Dean-a-rino?” 

“Not to be… well, I’d understand if it were none of my business but… I mean it IS none of my business but…”Dean stammered, trying to figure out how to phrase the question he wanted to ask. Gabes eyebrows were raised again, although this time not bouncing, as he waited with amusement for Dean to find his bearings. “Well, okay uh… Charlie told me this was...uh… more male dominated show, you know? Men’s burlesque, right? No chicks? Not that there’s anything wrong with men stripping or anything!” Dean hastened to tack on to his statement at the look of bewilderment on Gabe’s face. 

“Dean…” Gabe said slowly, seeming to be choosing his words carefully. “You do know I’m Pansexual...right?” 

Dean felt his face heat up again in embarrassment. He *had* known that, actually. Or, he remembered Sam talking about it before. Sam and Gabe had been friends since the moment they met in Highschool, and despite the age difference, they had been thick as thieves until Sam had gone cross country for college. “Oh! Yeah. Sorry man, I guess I forgot. Not that there’s anything to forget, really, cause that’s fine, you know? I just wondered cause you were just looking at Charlie and it seemed...anyway it’s all good. Allll good with me. I mean, not *with* me, you know. I’m not.. I don’t… Just that it’s okay in general. You know?” Dean could not seem to stop the verbal diarrhea from pouring out of his mouth while he felt his face growing hotter and hotter under Gabe’s amused stare. 

“You doing okay there, Dean-o?” Gabe asked, clearly enjoying the hell out of Dean’s embarrassment. 

“I...uh…” Fuck it. “I need another beer.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The curtains were pulled back only about 10 minutes later, which was approximately the amount of time it took Dean to work his way through the crowd to the concessions counter again and away from the mountain of embarrassment he had created sticking his foot into his mouth trying to talk to Gabe. Dean caught Charlie’s inquisitive look while he was standing in line and motioned for them to go ahead and find seats. He needed the time to calm himself, get out of his head. Why the hell was he so shaken anyway? He was here, at a theater packed with people all waiting to see the same show he was. He had his best friend and a hot girl to accompany him, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling of people giving him assessing looks. Wondering why he was here. Judging him. He grabbed the can of beer with a curt nod of his head and began making his way over to the entrance, wondering how hard it would be to find the girls and if they had gotten good seats. 

Fortunately when he was about halfway across the room he could see Brittney’s white-blonde hair catching the lights at a table near the front of the audience and he heaved a grateful sigh. She really was an attractive girl. Curvy in all the best ways, hair a cute short bob that showed off her heart shaped face and huge hazel eyes and pouty lips...she was a hell of a kisser, too. Dean was very much looking forward to the show being over already, couldn’t wait to try to talk Brittney into a night cap and maybe, if he played his cards right, breakfast the next morning. 

Grinning from ear to ear and with a renewed spring in his step thanks to his new-found purpose for the evening, Dean deftly wove around people and made his way over to his friends. Gabe and Brittney were sitting at a table, side by side, laughing at something clever Charlie had just said and...wait a minute. Gabe?!?! “What the…” Dean muttered, his steps slowing. He wondered if he could go back and get something stronger than a beer if he was going to be forced to spend the whole night with Gabe, knowing what a complete and total jackass he’d made of himself mere minutes ago. And what was worse was Brittney, watching Gabe with her whole face lit up and a bigger smile than Dean himself had been able to put on her face so far. He stopped walking and was about to turn around and head back to see if they had whisky when Charlie glanced over and caught his eye. She motioned him to come over and Dean heaved a sigh, resigning himself to a night chock full of awkwardness and discomfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate each and every one of you. You are all beautiful and lovely and have I mentioned you look amazing today? Stunning.


	2. Ladies and Gents, This Is the Moment You’ve Waited For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And awaaaay we go!

The next 15 minutes were some of the longest and most effortlessly awkward that Dean could remember suffering through in a long time. Gabriel kept a steady stream of conversation going between himself, Charlie and Brittney, and while Dean made some weak attempts at interjecting he somehow had nothing to add to any of the topics rolling by. More than once he caught the sympathetic look Charlie was giving him after he had tried to make a joke on the heels of something Gabe said that had Brittney, once again, giggling like it was the funniest thing she had heard all evening. If Dean had less self confidence in himself he might have been worried about just how well Brittney and Gabe seemed to be getting along. He resigned himself to sipping his beer and staring blankly at the darkened stage area in front of him, keeping half an ear on the chatter going on without him. 

One lifetime later (okay, only a few minutes but it *felt* like a lifetime, okay?) the house lights finally dimmed and all pretense of participating in any conversation was let go. Dean breathed a small sigh of relief and mentally tried to steel himself for whatever was about to go down. He leaned back casually in his chair, hand sliding over Brittney’s sitting on the table between them. He would have liked to put his arm around her, but the seating made it awkward to do so without blocking the view of someone at the table behind them, not to mention it almost seemed as though Brittney was leaning away from Dean and...towards Gabriel? Nah. He was imagining things...right? He briefly considered texting Charlie to subtly get her impression, but one glance in her direction showed her precariously balanced on the edge of her seat in a clear effort to get a glimpse of Dorothy, the podium she was standing behind barely visible in the dim blue backstage lighting. Dean felt a soft smile adorn his face and he settled back into his seat. It was nice to see Charlie interested in someone again. She had been through a painful breakup the previous summer and it had taken weeks of Dean forcing her to hang with him, hours of Mario Kart and, eventually, going so far as to promise to be her Handmaiden for the entire Winter LARP season before she had snapped out of her funk. 

Dean was trying to figure out the logistics of sneaking his phone out of his pocket to snap a pic of Charlie (for later blackmailing purposes) when a sudden deep chord of music pulsed through the theater. It was followed by a chorus of voices that seemed to come from every where.  
“Woooooo-ooooah” A strong, clear male voice cut through the dark.  
“Ladies and Gents, this is the moment you’ve waited for…”  
The voices joined in again- “woooooooa-oooooah”  
*BRRRUUUMMM BRRRRUMMM* Another deep chord struck and, despite Dean’s original reluctance to be at the show, he felt his heart rate accelerate in response to the dramatic intro. Again, the male voice rang out again through the darkness.  
“Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor…”  
“Wooooooooo-ooooah”  
“Buried in your bones there’s an ache that you can’t ignore  
Taking your breath, stealing your mind  
And all that was real is left behind…”  
One more massive strike of what had to be a kettle drum and the center of the space in front of Dean was suddenly doused in intense, almost blinding light. In the center of the floor stood a man, dressed like a ring leader from a big top circus. His eyes shone under the bright stage lights, his voice carrying the opening number like he was made for broadway. Men in various costumes were creeping through the audience, singing their hearts out while making their way to the stage and, just like that, the show was under way. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean had to admit, the show was pretty good. The first number had been absolutely stunning, featuring the entire ensemble and creating an immediate atmosphere that was pretty impressive, and things had continued to go up from there. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but whatever it was this show did not disappoint. The men performing weren’t naked, which was a relief, but they also weren’t just stripping. In fact, none of them were, not really. Sure, almost every one that came on stage left with less clothing on than when they entered, but it was all done very tastefully. Dean found himself increasingly relaxed, casually enjoying the show and genuinely impressed at some of the talents these guys had. 

Roughly an hour into the show, Dean found himself applauding with the crowd as the man wheeled his mobile stripper pole off the stage, and really… Dean didn’t even know you could GET a mobile pole. He may have to look in to that. It would be fun to put it smack dab in his living room. He could almost see the look on Sammy’s face next time he and Jess visited. Dean found himself chucking lightly, so busy picturing the bitchface Sam would throw that he almost forgot where he was. 

But there was no way he could miss the next act.

The first chords of the familiar music struck and Dean felt a smile split his face. He would recognize the opening music from Star Wars anywhere, even this version which seemed to be some sort of techno remix. As the music began to gain momentum, a pair of men walked on from opposite sides of the stage, both holding what look to be wooden dowels, roughly the same height as the men. One was clad in some sort of white robes, the other black, and both had their heads covered by the hoods on their robes. Almost immediately they began swinging the sticks in a well choreographed fight, perfectly executing a mesmerizing and complicated pattern, nearly striking each other but somehow always just a tiny bit apart. 

All to soon the music suddenly halted, and in the accompanying silence the stage was plunged into deep twilight blue. The men both quickly shed the robes and their staffs and took positions across from each other. 

‘Holy…’ Dean mutters before he can stop himself. These men were ripped. The one that had been clothed in the white robes was probably Dean’s height, if he had to guess, sandy blonde hair poking out above an eye mask. He was wearing white booty shorts and soft black boots that went halfway up his calves and Dean absolutely *did not* wonder where he got those boots because *damn.* Dean’s eyes shifted across the space and he felt his whole body flush. The man that had been adorned in the black robes was breathtaking. He had what appeared to be a nest of raven black hair and a strong, cut jawline darkened with stubble beneath the eye mask he was wearing. He was slightly shorter than the other man, but he was thicker. His muscles more pronounced on his shoulders, back, thighs….his black booty shorts and boots mirrored the other man but somehow….somehow they seemed to fit him better. 

Dean was 100% captivated.

A Dub-step remix of the Imperial March starts (Dean did NOT make any noise when that happened, he was just startled, okay?) and the men began to dance under the glowing lights- both had large fabric wings -one in a silvery white and one in glossy black. They twirled and spun and…. Dean swallows hard…*gyrate* in perfect unison as music built until suddenly the wings were just… gone. In their place both men were holding- holy crap are those lightsabers? Sure enough. One red, the other blue and Dean was not ashamed to admit his mouth dropped open at some point and he made no move to close it. The lightsabers create unbelievable patterns in the dim lighting as the men again stage an intricate “fight” routine as the music builds to its climax. The act finished with both men dropping straight backwards, legs folded beneath them and the stage again plunging into darkness. 

Everyone sits in awed silence for a split second before thunderous applause erupts, and if Dean finds himself clapping a bit harder and whistling a little louder than the others? Well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks fo reading! Comments are the logs on my bonfire. Come on baby, light my fire.


	3. Angel of the Night

Dean found he was enjoying himself immensely. He even managed to forget that Gabe was sitting at the table with them until the house lights came on, signaling the start of intermission. Dean stretched in his chair, working out a kink, and turned towards Charlie but finds her seat empty. Confused, he glanced around and just managed to catch a glimpse of her shock of red hair disappearing behind the side curtain. “Ahhh” he grinned. “Go get her, tiger” He went to grab his beer, only to find it gone. It must have been cleared by the waitstaff sometime during the show. Huh, he hadn’t even noticed. He stood and turns to find two pairs of eyes on him. “Gonna go hit the refreshments. Anyone need anything?” Both Gabe and Brittney shake their heads and turn back to each other, apparently picking up a conversation right where it was left off before Dean interrupted them. He bit back a sigh with a touch of irritation, stepping around Brittney’s chair and starting to make his way to the lobby area. 

There, Charlie catches up with him and she’s positively glowing. She rattles on excitedly, talking a mile a minute about Dorothy and how great she is, how busy things were backstage but Dorothy still took time out to talk to her, and how Dorothy might be up for getting drinks after the show. Dean raised his eyebrow at that, but figured if Charlie did end up leaving with Dorothy, that might actually work better for his plan to sweep Brittney off to his place. Charlie suddenly declares herself in need of another cider and disappears as abruptly as she had appeared, and Dean finds himself standing awkwardly in the middle of the crowded lobby. He casts his eyes to the concessions, finding the line still overwhelming the two frantic employees behind the desk. He decides to hit the head first to give the line some time to die down. Seems the restroom is a single serve and the line is long here as well, but he finds he really does have to go so he waits. By the time he gets back to the lobby, it’s nearly empty. He steps up to buy his beer, and just as he’s paying the lights dim and the quiet music that had been piped into the lobby fades to silence. Dean makes his way to the curtains just as the usher moving them, slipping inside just as the slide closed. The Ring Leader is back on stage, reminding folks about tipping that will happen after the finale number and eventually introducing the next act, something about an Angel. 

Dean stands for a second inside the entryway, letting his eyes adjust when he finds himself, again, plunged in total darkness. He sighs and squints, trying to gauge if he can safely start heading to his table when the lights suddenly come up on the center of the stage and he feels all the air whoosh out of his body. 

There, bathed in soft, white lighting, stands the dark-haired man from the Star Wars act. He is clad only in black pleather shorts this time. No mask. No boots. No robe. Dean’s eyes dance across him, drinking him in. Even from the back of the audience he can clearly see the tattoos across his sculpted abdomen, the faint sheen of sweat on his shoulders, his hair still a dark, chaotic pile atop his head. The theater is silent, the man standing dead center almost glowing in the soft light, his face cast downward, bathed in shadow. 

Between one heartbeat and the next the act begins with a flash of the lights that mirror the crash of a hi-hat that makes Dean jump. In the same moment, the man snaps his head up and his body begins moving in an equally sharp and sinewy rhythm. Different color lights pulse to to the heartbeat of a remix of Imagine Dragon’s “Believer.” Dean is spellbound, stuck at the back of the theatre, watching the man move gracefully across the floor, strength, flexibility and sin projected in every sweep of his muscular body. And his eyes...Even in the throbbing lights Dean can see how wide and captivating they are. Set beneath those deep eyes and above that sharp jaw is an equally sharp nose and what may be the most gorgeous set of lips ever to adorn a man that Dean had seen. The man turns his back to the audience and Dean is treated to the first real view of his shoulders, his waist, his ass...Dean swallows convulsively. “Holy shit” he thinks. The man’s back, shoulders and upper arms have intricate wings inked into his perfect skin. They glisten with his sweat, calling to Dean. 

He finds himself slowly moving forward, shocked from his reverie by a hand on his elbow. Startled, Dean turns and looks into the eyes of the usher he had seen earlier. The usher gestures for Dean to follow him, and guides him back to his table. Dean allows himself to be lead, resolutely keeping his eyes trained on the man on stage. Just as Dean finally reaches his seat the stage is plunged into darkness again. Is it over? Already? But he just started! Surely it can’t be done, that would be the shortest routine...

Dean briefly wonders if he should take a closer look at why he cares about this performer in particular, but before he can even begin chiding himself the music once again bursts through the silence. The lights come back up to full and this time...oh this time. The man is now standing next to large swathes of fabric hanging down from the ceiling. The fabrics are a deep indigo color, and Dean watches, enraptured, as the man begins dancing and moving his body around and through the fabrics. Dean’s eyes trace the muscles in his upper torso as they flex and stretch, showing off his incredible strength and Dean gasps as the man lifts himself off the ground, climbing the fabric as though it were a ladder. He gets a few feet off the ground and begins maneuvering himself, twisting the fabric around his lithe body and Dean finds himself shifting in his seat, leaning closer to the stage. The man bows his upper torso outwards from the fabric, his arms stretched out above and behind him, fists clenching the fabric tightly. He seems to be almost floating, the fabric billowing out behind him like… like… Holy shit. Like wings.

“Angel,” Dean breathes. 

The audience bursts into applause as the man grabs hold of the cloth again, and starts moving up towards the ceiling. Higher and higher he goes, somehow still on beat to the music swelling throughout the theater. Almost at the top the man finally pauses and once again begins wrapping the fabric around himself. His legs, his feet, his waist… he is clearly following a pattern but Dean couldn’t tell you what it was. All he can do is stare. The man, Angel, holds himself up for one full second, staring out at the audience...no. *staring right at Dean.* 

Time stops. The music stops. Dean would bet money his very heart stopped in that moment while Angel seemingly held his gaze, staring so intensely at Dean he is pretty sure he is peering directly into his soul. And then, the moment breaks as Angel suddenly tips forward and goes plummeting towards the stage. Dean gasps and makes an aborted move to jump out of his chair to...what? Rush the stage? Grab the man, grab Angel before he hits the concrete below? He huffs back into his seat and dares to glance across to where Charlie is sitting and sure enough, she is turned and watching him, her mouth dropped open in disbelief. Come to think of it… yep. Gabe is also watching him, and inquisitive expression playing across his features. In fact, the only person not paying attention to Dean is Brittney, who seems to be resolutely staring at the performance, her lips pursed. Dean ducks his head and turns back to the stage, grateful for the darkness of the theater to help hide his burning cheeks. The man has made it almost to the end of the fabric again, and he grabs the sides of it and leans forward again, making the wings behind him billow and sway. Dean would be captivated if he wasn’t busy scolding himself for being so ridiculous before. Of *course* Angel, Er...the man… wasn’t in any actual danger. This was what he *did* for crying out loud. Dean grabbed his forgotten beer off the table and ignores the rest of the man’s performance by concentrating on drinking it as fast as possible, hoping to drown his embarrassment. Maybe if he can drink enough to forget about it, everyone else will too?

Worth a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re new, welcome. If you’ve been here, thanks for sticking with me. I’m having fun with this story and I hope you are, too! Comments are the noodles in my pasta. Feed me, Seymour!


	4. She’s My Cherry Pie

The rest of the show passes in some sort of weird space-time flux continuum. It drags on forever, right up until it’s suddenly over. Dean resolutely blames the beer he’s had to drink, leaning heavily into the slight sway the room has acquired sometime during the last part of the show. It’s the lights. Or the sounds. Or the crappy chairs they are sitting in, or something. But no matter what it is, one fact remains. The show has finally drawn to a close, and now with the lights on and people beginning to mill about, Dean has some decisions to make. Like how to get out of there as quickly and with as little fanfare as possible. Or how to avoid Charlie for the next, oh...two or three months should just about do it, to avoid her pestering him about his reactions during...*ahem*...parts of the show. Or maybe just how to get Brittney to stop her incessant chattering with Gabriel, of all people. What on earth does Gabe have to say that is all that interesting, anyway?

‘Well, Dean-o, I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but I happen to be a VERY interesting fellow,” Gabe said, pinning Dean with a raised eyebrow and cocky smirk lighting up his smug face. Dean flushed bright red as he realized he must have spoken out loud. 

“Yeah. You did. In fact,” Gabe went on, “You still are. You feeling okay, there, I Dream of Deanie?” Gabe’s face was pulled into his usual smirk, but there was real concern shining in his Whisky-colored eyes. 

“M’Fine.” There! Dean had replied out loud *only* what he had meant to say out loud. He should get a friggin cookie.

“Huh. Well I don’t know if they have cookies, but I know there is a great greasy spoon just down the street that serves a mean slice of pie,” Charlie piped up, amusement clear in her voice.

Well shit. Apparently Dean was still not in full charge of the brain-to-mouth motor controls. He blinked at Charlie through thick, heavy lids for a moment before her words really registered. 

“Wait-pie? I LOVE pie. I wan’ pie. Screw cookies, le’s get pie!” Dean slurred slightly, stumbling away from his chair towards the archway that led to the lobby. Why did his feet feel so heavy? He usually could hold his liquor quite well, it was a point of pride for him (and Dean doesn’t want to even think what that says about him that is ability to drink is a bragging right.) Of course, he remembers blearily, he hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Well, really in day(s)- plural- thanks to Sam’s departure and his resulting lack of energy enough to do much of anything. A rookie mistake Dean usually avoids. Ah well. Too late now, he supposes, taking careful, measured steps all the way to the lobby, resolutely ignoring his repeated issues with keeping his balance. He was sober, damnit, it was just the lighting making things appear weird. And Dean would swear there is something up with the floor, they should have someone come and look at it. It’s clearly a hazard. Dean peers downwards, watching the warped floor somehow shift away right as his foot was about to make contact and somehow...missed. He suddenly became aware that he was quickly on his way to a one-way trip to his face meeting the floor.

Except it didn’t. 

Except that part of the way through the fall he just… stopped falling. 

Except the warm, strong arms and hands that had wrapped around him from behind, holding him in a sudden, all-encompassing embrace. 

Except the smell of sweat and musk and warmth, like sunshine and honey, that was wrapped around Dean just as tightly as those arms. 

Except the deep ragged breath that pushed a thick, muscled chest against Dean’s back. 

Except the way Dean’s whole body responded to the strength and heat enveloping him, pressing into his every sense, his very soul lit aflame and startlingly aware of every inch of skin that was touching him...except…

“Woah there! You okay?” 

Dean gasped. He couldn’t help it. That voice. It was deep, a low rumbling that just happened to be right next to his damned ear. Warm breath ghosted across his neck, goosebumps racing across his scalp and down his arms. The timbre of those words had somehow gained an all-access pass straight to his groin, his cock immediately starting to perk up and thicken without his consent. The shock of realization that he was getting turned on was enough that Dean’s arms finally began working and he found himself weakly grappling at the arms across his chest. His fingers finally gained purchase, but the strong arms responded by pulling him even tighter against the firm body and Dean absolutely did NOT press back into it. And he absolutely did NOT groan. 

A low chuckle grazed his ear and Dean didn’t even fight the shudder that went through his body. 

“Can you stand up?” The voice pours over gravel and directly through Dean’s brain on its way to his spine, where it fans the flames dancing across his skin until the tingling is almost all he is aware of. Dean is pretty sure he managed to nod his head affirmatively, although he just couldn’t be 100% sure, seeing as how the room was still insisting on being more wavy than any room had a right to be.

In the next moment, Dean's feet were back underneath him, his body weight being carefully eased down until the stranger was apparently satisfied that Dean could, indeed, stand on his own. Once Dean was convinced of the same thing, he gathered himself and squared his shoulders. He (carefully) turned to let his “savior” know that he would have been perfectly fine on his own and actually hadn’t needed the help thank-you-very-much, but when he lifted his eyes Dean found he couldn’t remember how to breathe, let alone speak.

Angel.

Deep, denim blue eyes were observing Dean’s flushed face under a mop of raven black hair. His perfect jaw and perfect nose and perfect lips were just… they were right fucking there. Dean’s gaze dropped to the man’s strong arms, his broad shoulders and chest, his stomach with the tattoos, the perfect V of his hips showing just above the black skin tight pants he was wearing that perfectly showed off a bulge that made Dean’s mouth go dry. With a jolt Dean sobered up enough to realize he had just been saved, like a damsel in distress, by one of the male burlesque dancers (the hot one, his mind supplied most unhelpfully) who was standing a mere foot away, staring at Dean waiting for a thank you while Dean was positively frozen STARING AT HIS CROTCH. 

Dean jerked his eyes up, guilt plastered across his features, and was met with those pale pink lips stretched in an amused grin, the dark blue eyes squinted with a touch of mirth as they watched Dean’s face go crimson in the dim lighting. 

“I, uh,” Dean said, brilliantly. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Angel asked him, the smile never dimming for one second. 

“Wha..? Yeah. Yeah, Imbe fine.” Dean managed to get past his lips, which had most unhelpfully decided to become numb. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Angel’s gaze. He licked his lips and tried again. “Mine frien...my friends are right there. We’re going to go get pie. You… you should come get pie!” This was a GREAT idea! Angel would come get pie and then Dean can get to know about his tattoos! “You should come get pie with the diner on the road. Down. Down the road. The diner is a spoon. But the spoon has pie!” Dean was doing awesome. All he could see was the smile on Angel’s face and this was clearly his best idea yet. Angel would come get pie and Dean would get pie with Angel. 

The man threw his head back and laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that made Dean’s fingers and toes tingle. 

“I’m flattered, truly. But I’m afraid I can’t. I hope you had a good time tonight…?” Inquisitive eyebrows raised to let Dean know this was his turn.

“Dean. M’Dean.” He supplied with a smile, awkwardly offering his hand in some weird parody of a hand shake. To his credit, Angel just reached out and took Dean’s hand, not quite shaking it, but not letting it go right away, either.

“I hope you had a good time tonight, Dean,” the man said. “Perhaps I will get to see you again. Enjoy your pie.” And with that Angel let go of Dean’s hand, and melted back into the crowd.

Dean’s eyes trailed after him until he lost track of where he had gone, but then he found himself just staring at the spot where he had last been. He lost track of how long he was standing there, and it wasn’t until a woman bumped into him that he snapped out of his daze. With a sigh he turned and started making his way to the lobby again, only to be met with Charlie’s large, wide, excited hazel eyes. 

“Dean! I was wondering where you’d gone off to. Are you okay??” She exclaimed, clutching his arm and all but pulling him down to her level. 

“Ah, Charles, leggo!” Dean rasped, yanking his arm out of her grasp and nearly falling over again. “M’fine!” He swatted Charlie’s hand away as he righted himself, standing relatively straight and cast his glance around the room at the dwindling crowd. “Where’s Gabe and Brittney?”

“They went on ahead to grab a table. We lost sight of you so I volunteered to stay and find where you’d disappeared to. Are you ready to go?” Charlie’s face was bright and open, and Dean knew Charlie loved him and only wanted the best for him. 

“Charlie- I met an angel. He caught me cause I fell. N’he told me to enjoy my pie! He’s a pie angel, Charlie.” Dean confided in his best friend, awe clear in his voice. Charlie smiled at Dean, gently taking his hand and leading him toward the doors.

“C’mon trusty handmaiden. Let’s go get you some pie!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean had sobered slightly by the time he and Charlie had walked the few blocks to the diner. Gabe and Brittney had gotten a table smooshed into a corner near the old-fashioned juke box, and Dean was pleasantly surprised to see Dorothy sitting at their table as well. There was a carafe of hot coffee and a suspiciously large glass of water sitting in front of the empty seat beside Brittney, but Dean wasn’t upset by the presumption he would need it. He slid gratefully in to his seat, picked up the glass of water and sipped at it, sliding his arm around Brittney’s shoulders and returning her smile as she leaned in to him. 

They spent the next two hours letting Dean sober up (although no one said that was what they were doing, it was what *Dean* was doing, and he was glad for the opportunity. He HATED leaving Baby parked somewhere overnight and he was always pissed at himself when he drank enough to necessitate it.) After everyone had had some food and pie, they eventually said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Charlie left with Dorothy, Gabe left after making sure Brittney had his number and leaving a wad of bills on the table. Dean and Brittney trailed out a little bit later, slightly awkwardly as they made their way back towards the venue’s parking lot. They walked in silence for a while, Dean’s head swimming while he went over and over the events of the evening so far.

“So,” Brittney started, glancing over to where Dean was walking just out of reach. “What are your plans for the rest of the night?” 

Dean glanced at her, then back at the ground in front of him as they walked. He knew what his plans had been, but for some reason he just...wasn’t as interested in that any more? He figured it may just be residual fatigue from his earlier drinking, and in true Winchester fashion, he decided to shake it off. Sex was sex, right? And, if his memory served him well, Brittney was fun in bed. 

Having made up his mind, he angled his steps to bring him closer, casually throwing his arm around Brittney’s shoulders, pulling her into his side as they walked. 

“Well, I was hoping to keep spending time with this great girl I know…” He gave her a little squeeze. 

“Oh really?” She replied, nudging her shoulder into his side. “I suppose she could find some time for you.” She glanced up at him, coyly biting her bottom lip. Dean recognized the invitation for what it was and he stopped them walking, cupping her cheek and leaning in to press his lips against hers. She sighed happily and leaned into him, opening her mouth slightly and gently pressing her tongue against his lips. He welcomed her into his mouth, deepening the kiss. She tasted sweet like the gum she had been chewing, and it was...nice. Dean ended the kiss and stood a moment, brushing her hair away from her forehead. 

“You want to come back to my place?” She asked, pressing her body more firmly against his. Dean nodded and ran his hand down her jaw, his thumb caressing her lip. This is what he wanted, right? He let his hand keep trailing down until he found her hand and, winding their fingers together, resumed their walk back to the car. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as they got inside the door to Brittney’s apartment, Dean crowds into her space. She responds to his kiss, but Dean can’t shake the feeling that he’s noticeably less enthusiastic than at the beginning of the evening. He keeps kissing her, determined to have *some* part of his evening go the way he planned. Dean Winchester is nothing, if not determined. He leans into her, bringing his hands up to her hips and caressing them softly. A soft sigh escapes her lips as she pushes her body against his. She is soft, and warm, and normally Dean would be leading them to the bedroom right about now, but so far little Dean doesn’t seem too keen to get on board. Ah well, no matter. He just needs a bit more time to catch up. Brittney breaks the kiss and backs up a step, an unidentified expression flashing in her eyes. She glances down at the floor, her hands flexing on Dean’s shoulders. 

“So…” she starts, uncertainty clearly laced in her tone. 

“So...” Dean softly parrots back, taking a step towards her, a small smile stretching his cheeks but not *quite* reaching his eyes.  
‘Sex is sex, sex is sex, sex is sex…’ He has on repeat in his head. He can do this.

“Soooo…” Brittney draws out, seeming to be trying to make a decision. She squares her shoulders and raises her gaze to meet his eyes, and Dean sees the flash of resolve across her face before she continues. “Would you like to move this to my bedroom?”

“Of course” Dean nods, almost on autopilot. This is what he was here for...right? 

He follows her down the short hallway to her bedroom, vaguely remembering it when he had been here last spring. The next moments are a blur. Clothes come off, pillows are moved to the floor and Dean finds himself laid out across her soft comforter, Brittney straddling his legs. He has her breast in his mouth, tongue working over her pebbled nipple, hands roaming her soft stomach and tracing around to her back and down her buttocks. He moans as his hands go further, cupping her ass. 

‘This is good, this is right,’ he finds himself saying in his head. ‘I can do this. This feels amazing...this feels...okay. NO. This feels good. This is fine. This is fine. This is...fine.’ Almost like reassurance, but that’s ridiculous. Why would he need reassurance? He’s a grown-ass adult man, hands all over a gorgeous, hot and completely willing partner. He just had a little too much to drink, that’s all. That’s why little Dean seems reluctant to get on board with the whole sexy times that are clearly in the process of happening. He’ll catch up, Dean just needs to give him a little time, that’s all. He redoubles his efforts on Brittney, flicking his tongue across her nipples, dipping his finger into her wet heat, reminding himself with every breath,’This is fine.’ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean closes his eyes , a deep groan making it’s way into the silence of his bedroom. It’s barely dawn, the light just creeping in across the horizon enough to turn the world outside from deep blue to a muddy grey as he was driving home from Brittney’s place. 

He probably should have stayed the night. He absolutely could have, Brittney even offered. But it just...it didn’t feel right. She was a nice girl, and Dean’s memory had served him well about her prowess in the sack. It should have been a great night. It should have been...but it wasn’t. Dean hadn’t even managed to get off. After bringing Brittney to orgasm twice, little Dean had finally perked up enough for Dean to be able to be more involved than with his hands and mouth, but after just a few minutes of thrusting, surrounded by Brittney’s soft body and her sweet smelling perfume and her stupid soft pillows, Dean was just...done. He had to concede that something was different, something was off. Luckily, he was able to blame the earlier booze and Brittney had just accepted it and cooed over him. That was when she invited him to stay and he had to firmly acknowledge that his skin was crawling. He needed out, and he needed out *now*. 

20 minutes and one lame excuse about working early the next day, and Dean was finally dragging himself in his own door. Wearily he kicks off his boots and drops his jacket next to the door, flicking the lock with his thumb and hanging the keys back on their hook. He stopped briefly to empty his bladder, then immediately drank a glass of water with a couple of painkillers to help stave off the impending hangover just beginning to settle into his bones. He pads into his bedroom, flops down and barely even makes it under the covers before his exhausted brain just shuts down. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warm, wet lips engulf the head of his cock, eliciting a deep grumbling moan from his lips. Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter as the soft heat slid down his shaft, then back up again, shocking sensations throughout his body, the tingling making his toes curl. Strong hands rub up his naked thighs, their hot, calloused skin leaving trails of fire where they swept across Dean’s body. The mouth pulls back slightly, twisting the tongue around the shaft as it drags up towards his tip, and Dean’s legs twitch involuntarily, squeezing against broad shoulders. Another moan is ripped from him as the mouth drops down again, taking him down to the root, pushing his length into the depths of the throat. 

Stubble drags lightly across his thighs as he squeezes them together, and the foreign sensation almost hurtles him face first into his orgasm. Dean is helpless against the onslaught of pleasure, his body responding to the physical sensations with more intensity than he can remember in his entire life. He gasps and bucks, pushing his cock impossibly deeper but instead of choking and pulling away, Dean is shocked breathless as a deep hum vibrates his entire shaft. 

“F...fu...fuuuck…” Dean manages to stutter in a choking gasp, desperately drawing in breath, tears gathering in his eyes, still clasped tightly against the dim light. His mind is reeling, body positively on fire. The wide hands gently squeeze his thighs, coaxing him to relax. Dean fights his instinct to curl into the incredible sensations racking his body and forces his legs to relax slightly, dropping away and butterflying back towards the bed. A low chuckle and additional encouraging pressure helps ease his legs slightly more, and it’s a good thing the hands are holding him down because the next thing Dean knows is he is being electrocuted from his dick straight to his soul as the throat encasing his cock suddenly swallows repeatedly around him. 

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Dean can’t even form words anymore, all he can manage are high-pitched keens that mirror the rhythm of the throat massaging his cock. He scrabbles at the bedspread beneath him, pushes his feet into the soft give of the mattress and begins unconsciously pushing small, abortive thrusts into the maddening heat. One of the hands leaves his thigh to swipe at his balls, which he is vaguely aware are positively covered in saliva and precome, before it disappears. Dean barely even registers the loss of it, until that hand is all he can focus on. It reappears a fraction of a second later, pushing between his cheeks, broad fingertip circling his hole. Deans eyes fly open and one of his hands releases it’s death grip on the bedspread and gropes for the tuft of messy, raven-black hair. His fingers tips find purchase in the soft nest just as the warm, wet fingertip breeches him and the mouth on his cock once again drops all the way to his thatch of pubic hair, his cock completely enveloped in unbelievably tight, wet heat. Dean’s mouth opens in a silent scream as his whole body freezes, tensing with a tsunami of overwhelming sensation. He flicks his surprised gaze down to see the lewd stretch of broad pink lips, now reddened from abuse and slick with saliva, buried against his pelvic bone. He drags his eyes up slightly and as they make contact with shining, deep blue ones, Dean’s body releases him from his frozen standstill, and he is slammed back into the waking world, body convulsing with each powerful spasm, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, memories of the intense dream already beginning to fade even as his body is still pulsing and twitching from the most intense orgasm of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been typing this tonight with a cat across my arms most of the time. Typos are my own, but I will try to go through asap to fix/correct them. This may be a bit rambling, I will edit that, too. I’ve just been wanting to post this for so long and I can’t wait any more! 
> 
> I hope there’s *something* enjoyable in this, at least. 
> 
> Tell me you like it. Tell me you hate it. Tell me you’ll call me in the morning.


End file.
